


Can't Be Fixed

by Kaitie



Category: Masters of Sex
Genre: Disturbing Themes, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaitie/pseuds/Kaitie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things cannot be fixed no matter how much you want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Be Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> So this is dark and pretty f'd up... I wrote this awhile back and just found it, not even realizing I had finished it. It's not really rape or non-con, but I felt uncomfortable not tagging it with something to warn people.
> 
> This comes from season 1 episode 8 where Barton attempts to cure his homosexuality with aversion therapy, including a drug to make him sick while being exposed to homosexual activity. In the show, Dale refused to help, but what if he didn't?

Dale sat on the hard concrete, feeling the residual warmth held from the afternoon sun. Leaning back, his head met the side of the building he was propped against. Tears still pricked at his eyes and he lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, taking another swig and wishing he could wash away the conversation that was still burned in his brain.

“There’s only one person who gets to be sickened by me. And that’s me”

The words kept going around and around in his mind and he regretted them. He had meant them at the time, still did. But still, the look that crossed Barton’s face just ripped his heart into little pieces.

Dale knew that he shouldn’t be the one feeling for Barton. Barton had everything. Money. A prestigious job. A family. Everything that Dale didn’t have. But he did have the one thing that Barton didn’t. Honestly. In his life and in who he was. People might look down on him and think he was a deviant, but Barton was living a lie and it was eating him alive.

Dale cursed, recalling Barton’s face as he stormed out the door. It wasn’t right, what he had asked of Dale, it wasn’t fair. But deep down inside he knew that it was the only thing Barton could see himself doing. He would never accept himself and tell his wife, he would be ostracized from his community and his family would fall apart. As much as Dale wanted to hate him, he couldn’t. Maybe if he had as much to lose, he’d feel the same way.

Staggering to his feet, he made his way to a pay phone on the corner. Before he could change his mind, he dialed the number to Barton’s house.

“Hello?” Barton answered. Even over the phone, Dale could hear the pain and exhaustion in the broken man’s voice.

“Fine, I’ll do it” Dale managed, slurring his words. He listened to the heavy silence on the other end.

“Thank you.”

Dale didn’t respond, simply hanging up the phone as an angry tear rolled down his cheek. Stumbling home, he tried to decide who he hated more at the moment, Barton or himself.

***

Walking in the door, Dale gazed around at the hotel room he had grown to know. A step up from the cars he usually met men in, he had started to look forward to meeting Barton. His eyes welled up, making the blue and yellow striped wallpaper blend together and swim before his eyes. He admitted to himself that he had developed feelings for Barton. Not love maybe, but he was more than just another paid fuck. And now he was agreeing to help to end the relationship they had.

He heard a knock on the door before it swung open and Barton entered. He looked about as bad as Dale felt, though he supposed Barton probably felt worse with so much on the line.

“Let’s get this over with” he said coldly, avoiding Barton’s eyes.

He turned, intending to walk over to the bed, but when he heard the bottle of pills rattle as Barton pulled them out, he stopped. Turning back, he quickly covered the distance between the two of them and pulled Barton to him. Crushing their lips together, Dale kissed him hard, pouring out his anger and disgust, hoping that Barton could feel that this was who they were. They couldn’t be fixed. Breaking the kiss, he pushed Barton away and strode over to the bed.

Watching as Barton swallowed the pills that would soon make him nauseous, Dale sat on the edge of the bed and began undressing. Kicking off his shoes and removing his socks, he then stood and unceremoniously shoved his pants and underwear down to his ankles, stepping out of them as well. He could feel Barton’s eyes raking his body, liking what he saw even though he hated himself for it. Barton was seated motionless in the desk chair, facing the bed. He watched and waited.

Dale leaned back, resting on one elbow while his other hand trailed down his stomach. He closed his eyes knowing that arousing himself wasn’t going to be easy. He had never felt less like touching himself in his life. Concentrating and calling to mind their last meeting, he slowly began palming his cock, encouraging it to harden for him.

Despite his emotional state, the images in his mind and the movements of his hand began to do the job and he began to swell. He could hear Barton’s breathing change as he too was becoming aroused. Opening his eyes, Dale caught Barton’s for a moment. Holding his gaze, Dale brought his hand up to his mouth and spat in it, bringing it down to lube himself up.

The room was silent except for Dale’s increasingly heavy breathing and the sound of his hand moving over his spit-slicked cock. As the minutes went by, he began to move faster, tightening his grip. Lying back, his free hand reached down to cup his heavy sac. Barton’s eyes were riveted to droplets of precum that had begun oozing from the tip of Dale’s shaft. He could tell by the soft grunts Dale was making that he was getting close. He was familiar with all of his noises and could tell just how much longer he’d last at this pace.

Just then, a wave of nausea hit Barton, causing his stomach to clench and the bile to rise in his throat. He fought the urge to shut his eyes and concentrate fully on not getting sick all over himself and the room. He broke out in a sweat, but kept his eyes trained on Dale, who hadn’t noticed the change in Barton yet. It wasn’t long though until Barton clamped a hand over his mouth, and the movement caught Dale’s eye.

“No, don’t stop” Barton managed, as Dale stopped mid-stroke. “You have to finish.”

Dale made a pained noise. Barton was clearly ill and he didn’t want to do this anymore. But he had promised, he knew, and he’d fulfill his word. Gritting his teeth and wrapping both hands around his length, he wanted to finish as soon as possible. Squeezing firmly and stroking faster, he jacked himself almost painfully, not wanting to enjoy the experience.

He could feel the pleasure coiling inside him and the pressure building. Thrusting up into his hands, his heels dug in the carpet and shut his eyes. Just as his orgasm hit and hot spurts of cum shot across his abdomen, he heard Barton begin retching into the wastebasket that had been next to the desk. Releasing his grip on his rapidly softening cock, he sat up and tried to collect himself. The tingling aftershocks of pleasure were still running through his body, but they were making him want to start vomiting as well.

He couldn’t stand to be there a minute longer. Quickly cleaning himself up, he pulled on his pants, shoved his feet into his shoes and headed for the door, not even looking Barton’s way.

“Wait” Barton called out weakly.

Dale stopped, but did not turn. “What?” He tensed as e heard Barton set down the wastebasket and stand, afraid he was going to come over to him. Barton wanted to, but stopped himself. He just stared at Dale’s back as they both stood awkwardly for a moment, nothing left to say. Finally, Dale just left, not wanting Barton to see the tears threatening to spill over.

Barton sat back down heavily, staring at the rumpled sheets at the foot of the bed and smelling the sick odor of vomit in the room. Aside from the lingering nausea, he felt no different and knew in his gut that the treatment hadn’t, and wouldn’t work. Putting his head in his hands he cried, shoulders shaking as the sobs overtook him.


End file.
